Springtime, Sprung
by Flowered Voodoo Dolls
Summary: After winter's come and gone, Gendry and Arya find each other again. [[Slight warping of canon, i.e. winter ends much sooner than it logically should. Written for a friend.]]


Gendry could hardly believe it. Thirteen years had passed since he had seen her last, and there she was, her hair a brown tangled mess and her clothes dusty and wrinkled, just as he remembered her. Yet she was taller, and she had breasts, as Gendry noted with admiration.

"Gendry," Arya said, in a voice deeper than Gendry remembered. She was still slender, but less scrawny than she had been last.

"M'lady," he replied.

She punched him, but with a grin. "Don't call me that," she said. "I haven't been m'lady for a long time. I'm Arya now. Just Arya."

"Not Arry? Not Nan nor Weasel nor Arya, of house Stark?" Gendry was mocking her somewhat, but he also wanted to know what had happened. No one had heard from any of the Starks since winter came. Now it was spring, and the buds were beginning to form at the tips of the forest branches he knew so well.

"Arya," she confirmed. "I've had enough of those names." A sharp chord of sadness seemed to flicker in her eyes for a split second, but Gendry could not tell. Her eyes were already so deep, filled with the deaths of her family.

Gendry smiled and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. Years of smithing had strengthened his arms, and Arya could hardly breathe in his embrace. "I missed you too, Gendry," she said, her voice high from the pressure.

"Oh, Arya," he said, more to himself than to her. "Where have you been?" He pressed his nose into her hair. She smelled of weirwood sap and fur, and Gendry could tell she had come from the north. "Were you at Winterfell this entire time?" Of course not, she couldn't have been. The Lannisters had destroyed it in the Winter's War, as the bards were calling it.

Arya struggled to keep her voice steady, but it shook as she said, "I just came from there. I've been heading south, down to King's Landing." She took a deep breath, inhaling Gendry's scent (which always used to serve to calm her down). "I went to visit my family."

Gendry knew she was talking about the fledgling weirwoods planted by the ruins of Winterfell – seven of them, standing only six feet high each. In the customs of house Stark, one had been planted for each of the Starks, another added for Catelyn out of respect for her memory. One was planted for Arya; too, as everyone simply assumed she was dead. Most of the Stark children were accounted for – if you dug at the foot of each weirwood, you could find the bones of Robb, Bran, and Rickon tucked away – but Arya and Sansa had been left unaccounted for.

Gendry had heard the news of Arya's death, of course, but he hadn't believed it for a second. He knew her far too well, and here she was.

Arya smiled and pulled out of the hug. "What about you?" she asked. "Have you found a maid to plant a son in? Do you have a herd of baby bulls running about somewhere?" Gendry was tempted to ask her more about her travels, but he knew it wasn't the time.

He swallowed and looked at her. "No, no wife," he said. "I think I have a son, though."

"You think?" Arya raised her dark eyebrows.

"A bastard, somewhere in the Riverlands," he explained. "A few years back."

Arya nodded. "Who was she?"

Gendry waved her off. "No one, really," he said dismissively. "A Dornish woman."

Arya nodded and decided not to keep pressing the subject. "What else has happened?" she asked.

Gendry shrugged. "Nothing," he said. "I've wandered." He grinned and looked at her. "I missed you."

She smiled. "I missed you too," she said. "Where were you?"

Arya looked down. "Here and there," she said. "I saw my brothers. Before the war ended, I mean."

Gendry nodded. "I heard about Lord Commander Snow. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she said. "Really, it's fine."

He nodded and dropped the subject. "Look at you, though!" He spoke in a falsely cheery voice. "You've all grown up." He moved his hands in the shape of an hourglass. "Filled out and all."

Arya punched him. "Shut your mouth," she said, "I'm no more a lady than I was."

He smiled. "I can see that," he said. He reached for his pack and pulled out an apple, taking a large bite out of it. His mouth full, he offered it to Arya with a gracious incline of his head.

She took it, and their fingers brushed together. Both of them felt a slight tingle rushing through their arms upon the impact, and Arya quickly pulled her arm away. She hadn't seen Gendry in a long time, and she refused to start acting like a silly peasant girl with stars in her eyes.

She took a bite of the apple and handed it back to him, struggling to keep composure. Gendry's looks had only seemed to improve with age. He had kept himself in good shape, at least, despite the war, which had drained so many.

Meanwhile, Gendry was struggling to keep himself under control. _She's still Arry, _he told himself. _Yes, she's a woman now, but she's still Arry._

He cleared his throat and turned to look at her, holding the apple in his lap. "Where are you going?"

Arya shrugged. "Not sure, really," she said. "I thought I'd keep heading south. I don't know where I'll stay, though."

"I live near here, you know," he said. "You're welcome to stay with me."

She smiled and glanced at him. "You're sure?"

"Of course," he said. "You're always welcome there."

"Thank you," Arya said.

They stayed in the forest and talked until they noticed the light through the trees beginning to wane. They got up and walked side-by-side back to Gendry's small house, both of them struggling to keep calm.

Throughout the entire walk, Arya was mustering the courage to tell Gendry how she felt. She had done a lot of thinking about him over the past decade, and she missed him more than anyone should ever miss someone. It was the only reason she had detoured through these woods, following the instructions of dozens of old women who had seen him a few times before.

When they reached his door, she grabbed his arm and kept him from going in. Standing up on her toes – although she had grown, she was still a head shorter than him – she pressed her lips against his.

Although Gendry was shocked for a few moments, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back, one arm snaking up to run his fingers through her hair. When they finally broke their lips apart, they stayed twined together.

"I missed you," Arya finally whispered.

"I missed you, too," Gendry said.

With that, they reluctantly pulled apart and joined hands before walking through the low, wood-framed door.


End file.
